state of grace
by imogensrocket
Summary: Everyone always promises you a happily ever after when you're young. There are countless love stories about soulmates, timing, and fate. But life is messy, and often, so are our own personal fairy tales.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.**

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**Author's Note: **This is dedicated to the Climogen queen herself. She should be renamed Clare Edwards, to be honest, for how perfectly she plays Clare. But anyways, bow down to her.

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**one: the meeting**

If one were to look in the window of Eli and Clare's apartment in downtown Toronto, many assumptions would have been made about those who inhabited the cold, modern home. The first assumption would have been whoever inhabited the home was very rich, the second, however, would have been that the owner was lonely and cold.

These assumptions are all true, but like most assumptions, there were cracks and flaws at how people are perceived.

Eli and Clare Goldsworthy, the young couple of twenty-seven and twenty-six, were very rich and very successful. High school sweethearts, prom king and queen, and successful authors – Eli of gothic writing, Clare of her successful vampire novels – and both enjoyed things to remain in their place.

There is no doubt to be made that this couple loved each other. They had both seen each other at their ultimate lows and ultimate highs, but like most epic loves, the flame flickers and it begins to fade. In this case, the flames ending had been splattered throughout their apartment. The cold colors, the metals and steals, the artwork. Everything screamed lonely and barren.

If one had looked in to the window the night of Clare's party for her book release, there is a moment one may have missed, but it was where the fairytale for one couple begins, while the other ends.

There are many who claim time is a key element when it comes to love, and most importantly, fate. And in this moment, the question of soulmates comes in. Can one person pick the wrong soulmate if a soulmate should exist? Can a person share their soul with more than one person?

Clare would never lie to anyone if asked the right questions on her relationship with Eli. The couple had had multiple problems in the short time span they had known each other, but never once had she'd ever questioned _if_ she was meant to be with him – it had always been a given.

In the moment she met Imogen Moreno, a twenty-seven year old new artist for Eli's books. She had been standing there, blushing and smiling, thanking her husband for his lovely speech. Just as she was about to thank everyone for coming, she locked eyes with the girl, and in that moment, something inside her sparked.

She didn't know what it was that made her heart suddenly flutter in her chest and her composure waver, but in that moment she knew that she had to know her.

Cutting her already short speech in half, she began making her way over, thanking everyone who stopped to congratulate her on the way. Finally, after what seemed like a life time fighting through the sea of polite people, she finally got to her and simply froze.

She'd been drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and now that she was there it was only fitting for her to burn due to her own incompetence to form a coherent sentence.

"Congratulations on your novel, Clare Goldsworthy," she said politely, adjusting her glasses to be center on the bridge of her nose. "Personally, I am a big fan of your work."

Clare raised a surprised eyebrow. In all the years of her doing these parties, not once had she ever met someone who'd read her book. They'd congratulate her, make polite chitchat, but she knew none really saw her as a real author. She wrote nothing more than adolescent fiction, settling her talents in a mediocre department when she could do better – not that Clare felt these judgments were true or gave them mind, just opinions she knew floated around.

"Well thank you," Clare smiled, taking a sip of her champagne. "Since you know my name, I guess it's only fair if you tell me yours in return."

"Imogen," she said, extending a hand. "Imogen Moreno. I'm Eli's artist. Well, new artist, I should say since he only hired me a month ago."

Clare's eyes widened. "_You're _the one who designed the cover of his new book?"

"Why? Was it not to your satisfactory?" the girl questioned, sipping her champagne. She wasn't rude in her question; it was said more in a curious manner. As if she was asking this in a way that couldn't be taken the wrong way by the wife of her boss.

Obviously, Imogen Moreno was self-actualized, and for that, Clare was impressed.

"Beyond, honestly," Clare admitted. "I was so jealous when he should me it. It was a very nice piece."

"I'm surprised, given your current tastes," Imogen said, her eyes sweeping the artwork that hung on the walls. Things Clare had chosen when she'd began to design the place. She had had a thing for abstract, but upon Imogen's glance, her taste left her feeling slightly embarrassed, though she didn't know why.

"Honestly," Imogen said, unaware of Clare's embarrassed state – or if she was aware, polite enough to shift the subject back into a comfortable place – "many of the people in the department thought the cover wouldn't work, but Eli fell in love with it. Kind of a sore spot for some people," she said with a casual shrug.

"I can imagine," Clare said with a small laugh,

The two women stood and talked for hours, and to their dismay, the party was over.

"Good night, Clare Goldsworthy," Imogen said when it was her turn to head out the door, and politely kissed Clare's cheek that exploded in to goosebumps.

Keeping her composure, Clare smiled and wished her a goodnight, hoping to see her again soon.


End file.
